


His First Officer

by greywitchy



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alien Cultural Differences, Alien Culture, Alien Planet, Aliens, Confusion, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Enterprise, Established Relationship, First Contact, Fluff, M/M, Married Couple, Mistaken Identity, Mutual Pining, Secret Relationship, Sharing a Bed, So Married, Soul Bond, Starship Enterprise (Star Trek), Sweet, Telepathic Bond, Telepathy, Vulcan Bond, Vulcan Culture, Vulcan Kisses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:48:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26797606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greywitchy/pseuds/greywitchy
Summary: When some aliens assume "first officer" means "first man" aka the captain's mate and significant other, they arrange for a room with only one bed.Bonus points: Jim and Spock are actually married, which is a hush-hush secret. Most of the crew pretend not to know.More bonus points: the same aliens assume Chekov to be their son.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 38
Kudos: 412





	1. And They Welcome the Captain and His First Mate

“Landing party ready,” announces Captain James T. Kirk as he looks about the transporter room.

To his right, Commander Spock gives an affirmative nod. To his left, ensign Chekhov smiles and nods much more enthusiastically. Chekhov’s excited, Jim understands that and but forces himself to keep a dignified facade. He glances at Mr Spock one last time, straightens his back and pulls on a friendly yet composed and firm smile.

The Titawins have been nothing but hospitable and welcoming over the coms, and yet anything could happen when approaching a civilisation of which the Federation has no previous record before.

“Beam us out, Scotty,” says Jim.

“Aye, right away, captain,” salutes his chief engineer and switches the levers.

The transporter room disappears in a blinding flash, Jim feels his body grew lighter until it pieces back together, and his feet land firmly on the ground.

Jim checks that his two officers are by his sides, they materialise in their respective spots, a step behind him. Then Jim looks around, they find themselves in the capital of the Titawin state, as according to the woman they’ve spoken to over the com anyway. One sun, four planets and sixteen moons, with their respective sixteen city-states, all composing a single federation-like entity. Highly developed, warp-capable, rich in fossil fuels and organic materials.

And, most importantly, the Titawins appear to be friendly and willing to establish relations with the Federation.

Jim glances over the structures, they remind him of the Asian imperial castles of the Earth, only higher and in different shades. The pagoda-like roofs are either dark purple or dark blue while the walls stick to the same yet lighter palette.

“Hello and welcome to Xav’Rentine-seh,” says an old woman as she walks out from around the corner and towards them.

A small group follows her but they stay a few feet behind. The woman raises her hands above her head and stretches her arms to her sides, then lowers them.

“I am Chaaxad Zahme of the Fairs’Xavren, the matron of this city.” She smiles gently, and a light blue blush touches her face. She speaks with an odd hissing to her vowels, yet it’s not something to be concerned over, the universal translation is doing just fine.

“Captain James T. Kirk of the Enterprise,” offers Jim in return as he approaches her.

The matron is half his height, and she wears long, several-layered blue robes with silver that drag on the ground. An embroidered shawl covers her hair, it fits the hairline closely and streams into the knot at the nape of her bare neck. Her skin is wrinkled and a little bluer than that of a human. Her almond-shaped eyes are lined with blue coal. They pierce.

Jim misses the bounce in his step. Only once, he faces the matron head held up high. “It’s great to meet you in person, er–“

“You may call me matron,” she helps out, and her smile grows warmer. “If you find my name challenging to your tongue.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure I can pronounce it,” grins Jim back and glances at the group behind her. Same but shorter robes and their hair is uncovered. “I wouldn’t cause any offence though if I get it wrong the first time.”

“Matron,” says the woman and tilts her head, the small bells in her shawl twinkle, “would be the correct term of address after all.” She stretches her hand out.

“Ah, sure.” Jim places his on her and curls his fingers around to shake it–

The matron claps her other hand to the back of his and moves their hands so that she holds Jim’s cupped in between hers and gives it a shake. Her hands are cool.

“Oh, er,” Jim blinks and tries to keep up, but there’s not much to it.

The matron holds his hand a little longer and lets go.

Jim clears his throat and steps aside. “This is my first,” Mr Spock has moved to be right behind him, and so Jim gestures to him, “officer Mr Spock.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, matron,” he says calmly.

The matron glances at Jim for some reason, only for a fleeting moment, before she turns back to Mr Spock. Jim doesn’t get why that unnerved him. Perhaps, it’s wasn’t him after all...

“We welcome you, Mr Spock, the Enterprise captain’s first mate,” says the matron. She matron reaches out to take Mr Spock’s hand too in what could be considered a Vulcan make-out session.

His first officer tenses.

“No offence, matron,” Jim blurts out and darts in between them. “But, er, you see, my first office is of another culture than I am.” Jim gestures to himself and then over at Mr Spock.

His first keeps his expression neutral if only a little bothered. Many won’t ever tell the difference, it’s only Jim who _knows_. And Jim understands.

“The Federation includes many races, nations and cultures,” he says slowly and weights up his next words, “my first officer is Vulcan.”

Jim knows making a good first impression on the Titawins is important. But Jim also feels that he’d rather never put Mr Spock in a position as uncomfortable as that. So when Mr Spock shoots him one his _I’m adequate, captain_ glances, Jim doesn’t buy it. He only nods quickly and still does what he thinks is the right thing.

“On Vulcan,” Jim goes on and, for a fleeting second, guesses that Mr Spock disapproves the general cause leading for him to take the action... while also is gratified for Jim doing so, “they do not touch each other’s hands, unless married or close family. It’s considered a very personal matter.”

“Oh!” Surprisingly, matron jumps back and clasps her hands together. Horrified. Mortified, she blushes deep blue and clasps her hands over her open mouth. “I meant no offence to you and your mate,the Enterprise captain!” she exclaims.

“Er–“ Jim glances over her to find the small welcoming party equally embarrassed as well. Try, _over_ -mortified.

“It’s not that a big deal–“ Jim tries again.

“How could I!” The matron catches herself quickly and bows to Jim. “Please accept my apologies,the Enterprise captain.” She places her hands together, palm to palm, turns to Mr Spock and bows even lower. “Please accept my sincerest and greatest apologies, the Enterprise first mate, I was not aware of my trespassing.”

 _Trespassing,_ huh. Now, that Jim can’t certainly place. He glances at Spock yet understands no more than he can guess. Perhaps, there was something wrong with the translator, it _does_ keep translating the matron’s address as _first mate_ instead of _first officer._

“Apology accepted, matron,” says Mr Spock, and yet the lady doesn’t look satisfied.

In fact, the quick, and mostly emotionless, reply seems to mortify her even more.

Jim steps in before she goes on though. “Look, just do not touch Mr Spock’s hands from now on, and it is all well.” He makes eye contact with the matron and keeps it. “Alright?”

She might not be at all at ease, but she locks her fingers in front of her and nods.

Jim steps aside and waves for Chekov to stand in his place, introducing him now will change the topic and, maybe, the matron will forget the incident.

“And this is ensign Chekov of the Enterprise,” says Jim and smiles. He places his hands on Chekov’s shoulders and ushers him to the front. “He’s human, same as me so you _can_ shake his hand.”

Jim gives Chekov a look, yet it’s not necessary because the ensign already stretches his hand out with the biggest grin possible. The matron hesitates for a moment yet takes his hand, Chekov beams, and she smiles back, then shakes his hand in both of hers.

“We welcome you too, the son of the Enterprise,” she says, and the small welcoming party behind her claps.

Er, weird but okay. Jim takes a mental check to ask Scotty and Uhura to take care of the translators, or at least check out his since Chekov and Mr Spock don’t share his perplexed look. When they beam back to the Enterprise, sure.

“Please follow me,” announces the matron and gestures for them to go after. She turns around, the small party steps to both sides and lets them through. “I shall show you around Xav’Rentine-seh first. The Council meeting is scheduled in two hours, after which we shall have a banquet.” She pauses and looks back over her shoulder. “You are staying for the night, are you not, captain of the Enterprise?”

Jim glances at his first, now, if Mr Spock finds the invitation acceptable and serving their cause… which he does. Jim knows, the other doesn’t have to say anything or even just nod.

“We would be delighted,” answers Jim for the landing party.

“Splendid!” The matron makes an odd sweeping gesture at the left side of the group, and they scatter into the streets.

“Rooms shall be prepared for all of you,” explains the matron and goes on.

Jim likes the city a lot. They follow the curved streets, those seem to curl to the middle, like a huge shell with the largest building set in the centre. The matron shows them around and points out a few spots important to the Titawins and their history. Jim agrees with what she tells them, Mr Spock nods in respect, and Chekov beams and fires questions. By the end of the hour, he’s the only one of the three not concerned with what’s going on. Jim isn’t _exactly_ apprehensive either, more so he doesn’t get it. And _that_ , in turn, Jim doesn’t like.

As it is, they meet a few Titawins to who the matron wants to introduce them. Some government figures or remarkable citizens who they come across in cafés or outside, in the streets. Jim wonders if he’s done something wrong, but when?! because when anybody ever approaches, the matron shows them some kind of a local gesture, and since it’s a gesture, the universal translator doesn’t help, and the approachers bow and step away. They never even try to shake his hand. They do not approach Mr Spock as well yet go straight for Chekov.

“Hi, hello, здравствуйте,” Chekov beams at everyone and shakes their hands. By the time they approach the government houses, which is the largest building in the middle of the city, there seems to be a queue trailing behind Chekov who want nothing else but to shake his hand.

Jim really tries not to think it over too much. The Titawins are friendly, and if they’d rather greet a member of his crew then why not. As long as they remain open to negotiations and establishing contacts with the Federation.

***

Spock knows. _Or_ at least he could, and would rather do so, propose a highly probable hypothesis on the Titawins', and the matron's, in particular, peculiar behaviour. He also might or might not find the aforementioned conclusion fascinating.


	2. And They Decide to Play Along

“There must be some sort of confusion, Mr Spock–“ starts Jim as he enters the room where they were put up for the night.

He’s liked the tour and the banquet on the overall, the Titawins were excitingly friendly and the negotiations went on without a hitch... They are to be expecting official Federation ambassadors soon enough, and a few Starfleet-parties are to be stationed around the four planets and the moons, and yet...

Behind him, his first officer halts. Mr Spock stops a step behind him and still holds the door so that he might step back into the corridor any time. Jim hears, more so _feels_ , Mr Spock’s breath hitch.

There’s only one bed. Well, it’s a very large king-sized bed with blue embroidered canopies, lots of pillows and silk-like looking linen, and all.

But still, the bed comes on one piece. Apart from it, their room an imposing carved wooden (blue wood) wardrobe, a table made of the same shaded wood, a window with the lovely city view... no couch or anything else, like a carpet, that might remotely pass for a second sleeping place.

Jim looks over his shoulder and meets the other’s intense gaze.

“I should notify the matron immediately,” says Mr Spock and nods, “captain.”

“No, wait.” Jim catches him by the arm, his fingers lock around Mr Spock’s forearm, perhaps too tight. “The last time, she nearly had a heart attack. You wouldn’t want for the poor old lady to collapse this time, right, Mr Spock?”

Jim pauses for a moment, and a smile tugs at the corners of his lips. Mr Spock keeps his expression neutral, he steps inside the room and closes the door behind him. His forearm feels so warm under Jim’s hand.

They both think of the same thing.

Jim tilts his head up and leans closer. “Besides,” he lowers his voice and winks, “it’s not like we’ve never done this before, have we, Spock?”

“Indeed.”

Spock smiles, Jim might not see it, he feels, _knows_ better than that. The amusement is in his mate’s eyes, it splashes inside and burns under quite another emotion.

Hunger.

Jim swallows as he feels it hum through their bond.

“Starfleet would be none the wisest,” whispers Jim and steps even closer. He presses against Spock, their bodies fitting together perfectly. “It’s not the Titawins would report us,” Jim huffs a laugh and feels his mate shiver. He tilts his head, his warm breath grazes Spock’s bare neck, right above the line of his blue science uniform.

Spock closes his eyes and wraps his arms around his captain, his _mate_.

Jim presses a trace of light kisses up his neck and to his chin, then moves along the line of Spock’s jaw and nibbles at the tip of his pointed ear.

“...Jim,” breathes out Spock and shivers.

“Yeah?” Jim chuckles quietly and looks up, bats his eyes and makes an absolutely innocent face.

Spock smiles and leans to his lips. Barely touching. “Come to bed.”

At that, Jim only grins back. “Make me.”

Spock quicks one eyebrow and slides his hands down Jim’s back, then to his sides and, finally, settles with gripping Jim’s hips and pulling them flush against one another. Spock presses his forehead to Jim’s and looks into his eyes...

Most importantly, Spock _thinks._ He thinks of all the wicked things he’d do to Jim as they’re completely alone right now and with no usual danger about to spring out on them any second.

Their bond hums, Jim feels the warm golden light wash over him– and also all the images, one more graphic than the other, so scrumptiously translated over the bod.

Jim gulps.

And Spock grinds them together again as he leans to Jim’s ear and whispers, his lips grazing Jim’s earlobe, “A-sha-yam.”

Jim shudders.

“Okay, I’m convinced, mister!” And he yanks Spock along with him towards the large bed.

***

Spock listens to Jim’s breath quieten and fall into a certain pattern. He glances as his mate, curled by his side and pressing into him as only possible. Jim’s light hair, though short, looks a dishevelled mess against the dark-blue linen.

The red mark blooms on his neck just a little below the possible uniform neckline. Spock has long calculated the exact allowed spot so that _he_ would always know his mark is there, left on Jim, and yet no other would happen to see it. Some part of Spock is not fond of the accepted set of rules, and it could be even not his human half. The possessive urge over his mate could be a deeper drive, a repressed Vulcan trait–

Jim mumbles something into his side, and Spock goes still. He banishes his thoughts, no more late-night musings if they might disturb Jim through their bond, his captain gets tired enough as it is. Gently, he buries his fingers in Jim’s soft hair and circles them around.

Spock closes his eyes and drifts into a peaceful sleep by his beloved.

***

Softly, the morning greets Jim with the warm light creeping inside through the light curtains. Jim yawns and nuzzles into his mate’s warm side.

Spock moves, and Jim feels their bond hum with content.

“What do you think it was about?” mumbles Jim and taps Spock’s rib with his index finger. Not even a nudge, a mere graze to get his attention. Though, Jim knows he already has that anyway. “You have a theory.”

Not a question, Jim’s sure.

Spock moves his hand to Jim’s head and, slowly, threads his fingers through his partner’s hair.

“The Titawins are not touch-telepaths,” he says quietly, “however, they are not psi-null.”

Jim snorts and sits up. “And that leaves us...?”

Spock smiles one of his smiles that only Jim can discern. The corners of his eyes crinkle a little.

“I hypothesise,” Spock sits up too and lowers his legs to the side of the bed, “the matron is aware of our bond.” He gets up and walks to pick up their uniforms.

First, Spock pulls his shirt over his head, then he brings Jim his.

“You have informed her that by Vulcan tradition, only the significant other may touch my hands.” Spock pulls Jim’s yellow shirt over his head and holds up each sleeve in turn for him. “By attempting to shake my hand, she would have only insulted me.”

Jim hears the _but_ before it comes.

“However,” Spock goes on, “by doing the same towards you, she would inevitably insult both of us. Me for touching my mate, and you for putting you in a position insulting to your mate.” He ruffles Jim’s hair in one quick motion, that, and a bit of brushing, always does it for what everyone assumes to be the captain’s usual hairstyle. “Hence, she was horrified to the degree we have witnessed yesterday.”

Spock’s own hair takes a bit longer than that and calls for a mirror. He walks away from the bed, and Jim trots after him and wraps his arms around Spock’s waist.

“I have also observed,” continues Spock as he tugs on the neckline of his shirt to see if it sufficiently covers the greenish hickey, at that Jim smirks against his back, he knows well enough Spock will get it through they bond anyway, “how the Titawins announce themselves, and I believe the pattern is the same to as you have introduced us.”

Jim hums. Their bond vibrates back.

“ _The Enterprise_ they could have been perceived as a family name. In addition, they are highly likely to have assumed ensign Chekov to be our son.”

Jim pauses. Either it makes solid sense or the fact that it is _Spock_ who says it makes it sound completely logical.

“Then you have mentioned he was of the same culture as you,” Spock lays the hairbrush by the mirror and covers Jim’s hands on his waist with his, “thus, touching ensign Chekov would be considered appropriate. The Titawins also appears to be a very touch-dependent culture, it is of high importance for them to touch the other party to establish contact.”

Jim slips out and heads for the door, he only glances himself over in the mirror first. “And that works because..?”

“Now, if ensign Chekov is our son and by touching him they are not to impose, or as the matron has put it _trespass_ my mate, the Titawins would attempt to touch him as much as possible. By doing so, they show they greet the whole party.”

Jim grins and raises up his index and middle fingers. “So... basically, they’re squishing Chekov for the three of us?”

“Essentially...” Spock waits a bit just to annoy Jim, it’s their thing, then presses his fingers to Jim’s. “Yes, captain.”

“Well, I can learn to live with that.”

Jim huffs a laugh, and Spock pushes the door open. Perhaps, they’d better not leave together– Ah, right, that made sense on the Enterprise since they had separate quarters, and yet the Titawins could’ve simply given them adjacent rooms. And so Jim walks out after his mate.

Spock stays silent and smiles with his eyes. The bond hums for him, and it’s golden, warm light washes over Jim.

***

Later, when other Starfleet ships arrive and the respective crews take their stations, the Titawins might be perplexed to why no other Federation captain seems to have been married to their first mate. The Titawins also might or might not set out to change just that.

**Author's Note:**

> P.s. All I want for Samhain is a full inbox **wink-wink**


End file.
